


Perfection is How You Perceive It

by thepromiseimadetoyou



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Humanized, Portal Secret Santa, Post - Portal 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-21 09:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1545290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepromiseimadetoyou/pseuds/thepromiseimadetoyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She places the box back under the tree and he can see the name written on it. <em>Wheatley</em>. She stands up and goes into the kitchen where he can hear the sounds he has come to identify as the oven and various cabinets. He stares at the box with his name, realizing what it means.</p><p>She got him a gift.</p><p>After all they went through she cared enough to get something just for him.</p><p>He doesn't have one for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfection is How You Perceive It

**Author's Note:**

> This was done as a Portal Secret Santa gift on Tumblr for luchiioko. Merry Christmas and enjoy. :)

He doesn't understand. He hasn't understood for the past week. She keeps doing strange things and every time he's asked what she's up to she just says, “Christmas prep.” What on Earth is a 'Christmas'? Earlier today she was hanging colored lights outside the house. Today she's hanging random objects on a tree. A tree sitting in the living room. He doesn't understand.

He watches from the floor near the fireplace. He should probably ask her again what this 'Christmas prep' thing is but he can't find the courage to disrupt her. She seems happy. Every time she hangs an object on the tree he can see the smile. The way her eyes light up. It makes him happy too, seeing her like that. He leans to the side to see which object she's hanging this time. It looks like a crude Companion Cube made of paper.

She catches him staring and steps back from the tree until they are at the same distance. Smile still on her face, she looks down at him and asks, “Like it?” He continues to stare at the tree, not sure what to tell her. “Well, uh... It's certainly decorated. I'll give it that. Lots of little things all over it. Very good job in that department.”

He can tell from the way her shoulders slump and the smile fades ever so slightly that it was the wrong answer. He's quick to defend himself, but at the same time tries to not hurt her feelings any more than he already has. “No no it's lovely! Absolutely perfect! I just don't- you never explained what any of this was for, luv. Just started decorating the house out o' the blue, bringing in a tree one day and sticking things on it, it's enough to confuse anyone. Does look very nice though. Compliments the uh, the little socks on the fireplace.”

“Stockings.”  
“Yeah those. Stockings. Looks great with 'em! Please don't be upset...”

She leaves the room and he panics, afraid he's messed up yet again. He stands up, making to chase after her and tell her whatever she needs to hear, as long as she'll smile again. But she comes back grinning and he collapses on the carpet with a sigh of relief. This makes her look at him funny but he doesn't care. She places a blue box under the tree and he crawls over to get a closer look.

“What's in the box?” He picks it up and shakes it when she grabs his hand and shakes her head.  
“Not until Christmas.” she says.  
Blue eyes blink in confusion. “Uh, luv, don't mean to upset you or anythin' again, but you never, you never said what this 'Christmas' is.”

She takes the box back from him and tells him a story. A story of a special holiday celebrated outside Aperture. A story of how people get each other gifts to show how much they mean to each other. How they decorate to show they are in the festive mood.

He listens with rapt attention, like a child being told a fairy tale.

When she finishes she places the box back under the tree and he can see the name written on it. _Wheatley_. She stands up and goes into the kitchen where he can hear the sounds he has come to identify as the oven and various cabinets. He stares at the box with his name, realizing what it means.

She got him a gift.

After all they went through she cared enough to get something just for him.

He doesn't have one for her.

Panic sets in and he shoots up, grabs his fuzzy jacket from the rack in the doorway and leaves her the parting words, “I'll be back! Just got to pick somethin' up is all!” before rushing out the door and into the snow.

It doesn't occur to him that he doesn't even know when Christmas is. He doesn't know that he might have plenty of time left.

He only knows he has to find the perfect gift for her.

The snow is cold and the wind biting, and he can hear her opening the door and calling out to him. 

“I'll be fine!” he shouts back and fumbles to catch an object she has thrown at him. Small, fabric, a little fluffy ball at the top. Oh, this is the hat she bought him. “Thanks, luv! Back in a bit!” He sees the smile as she returns to the house, and he puts the hat on and continues down the street.

People are rushing to and fro, some with bags and some without. He maneuvers around most of them, has to apologize to a guard for bumping into him, and finally steps into a small corner shop. The door shuts behind him with a chime and he expects the person in charge to say something. Even a hello would be nice. But no, they're asleep at the counter.

This was a shop she had gone to many times. To, not in. On their grocery excursions she had always stopped outside to look in the window. He never understood just what was in here that she fancied so much, but whatever it was she never bought it. So it would make the perfect gift. Right? As long as he could figure out what it was. Oh this was going to be more trouble than he thought.

Identifying anything on the shelves is difficult. It's all so unfamiliar to him! Most of it looks like the stuff she'd stuck onto the tree. Little things he couldn't recognize. Save for her Companion Cube one. He walks through the aisles, trying to be as quiet as possible to not wake the counter person, but of course he is naturally clumsy. Tripping over a cable covering on the floor and falling face first wakes the man up. And leaves Wheatley with a sore face.

“Oh bloody hell. What's that thing doing there in the first place?”  
“It keeps people from tripping over the wiring for the security camera.” The man stares at him. “You tripped over it, didn't you?”  
“Well obviously. Should be kept in a better place, that. Somewhere people aren't gonna walk over it and end up faceplanting your carpet.” he complains as he stands up and readjusts his crooked glasses.

The man at the counter blinks and thanks to Wheatley having worked with a seemingly mute girl for quite some time, the man's facial expressions are easily understood. Realization. “You're the guy who hangs out with that weird girl! The one who keeps creeping at the shop window. What do you guys want?”

Brows furrow and Wheatley looks around the shelves again. “Just... Just tryin' to find her a Christmas gift. Somethin' in here she really likes. Can't figure out what.” He picks up one of the objects on the nearest shelf and turns it over in his hands. It's a glass ball on a base with a tiny building inside. The more he turns it the more the fake snow moves around.

“Oh.” The man leaves his chair and walks over to Wheatley, taking the snow globe before the clumsy customer drops it. “Well shopping goes better if you know someone's interests. What does your girlfriend like?”

“No see that's the problem, mate! Don't know...” Wheatley reaches for the snow globe again but the man places it back on the shelf and sighs before walking away, beckoning for him to follow. He leads him down a different aisle, full of less-fragile objects. None of these are glass balls. Wheatley still doesn't recognize any of them.

The man gestures to the shelves and tells him, “Harder to break these. I'll be at the counter when you're done.” Wheatley nods and goes back to perusing the objects. Colored pointy ones catch his eyes and he moves to them, kneeling down to the proper shelf. There's a whole bunch of these things! All different colors, plastic not glass. He's seen decorations that look like these all around the city. 'Snowflakes' the people called them. Don't look anything like snow. Snow is white and cold. These are pointy and plastic. People have weird names for things.

He likes them though. Definitely Christmas things if the townsfolk are to be believed. And these come in all sorts of colors! He grabs a blue one and an orange one and smiles. She'll know those colors. He takes them to the counter. “How much?”

“Ten bucks. They have price tags you know.”  
“Uh, right. Hold on.”

He fumbles through his pockets, trying to find the little green papers she'd told him to take when shopping. Come on, they're here somewhere! Ah! There we go. Oh that says twenty. Uh, five. “Don't have a ten.”

He can tell the man is trying hard not to be annoyed. “Give me the twenty. I'll give you change. Are you foreign or something? How can you not know how money works?”

“Sort of foreign, yeah. Not from 'round here.” He performs the paper exchange and leaves the store with the plastic snowflakes. The door chimes when it shuts and the icy wind sends him into a shivering spasm until he shoves his gift and his hands into his pockets. Warmer but still freezing. Aperture is definitely not missed, but at least the facility was always warm. 

The snow crunches under his boots as he runs back to the house, eager to escape the cold and sit by the warm fireplace. Again, more apologies for bumping into people on the way there. When he finally gets home the door is practically flung open as he rushes inside, then slams it shut.

From in the kitchen she turns around, then comes running over to him. Her hands are warm when she cups his face. Said face warms even more from the blush forming on it when she kisses him. Letting go she points to the kitchen. “Cocoa? It's warm.” A fervent nod from him and she leaves just long enough for him to take his jacket off before returning with two steaming mugs. She hands him one and laughs when takes a sip, only to nearly spit it back out because it's hot. “Be careful.”

She is about to take a seat near the fire and beckon him over when his eyes go wide and sets his drink down on the entry table to grab his jacket. “Uh, can I, can I get a box? Got somethin' to put under the tree. It's where gifts go, right?”

She drops her mug off on the kitchen counter and pulls a bent cardboard box out from the closet, then comes back to offer it to him. He takes it and replies, “Thanks, luv. But uh, you can't exactly watch when I'm puttin' it in. Your gift an' all.” She smiles, nods, and goes back to the kitchen to continue sipping her cocoa.

Wheatley turns his back to her and sits down, pulling the colored plastic snowflakes out of his jacket and putting them in the box. Holding it shut he tests it by shaking. They rattle too much. Might break 'em. “Got any softening stuff, luv? Somethin' to keep 'em from shakin' in the box?”

“Newspapers on the table.”  
“Ah, forgot 'bout those! Thanks!”

Crumpling those seems to work. He tapes the box shut and although it doesn't look as nice as hers he is very proud of it. With a marker previously used for circling job ads in the newspapers, he makes to write her name. He stops.

All this time and he doesn't know her name.

She walks over and kneels when she sees him faceplanting his box. “What's wrong?”

“How long has it been?”  
“Since what?”  
“The facility. When I met you. How long?”  
She pauses to think about it. There was no way of knowing the flow of time in that horrid place. “I don't know...”  
“However long in there and I never asked your name. God... She's right. I'm a moron.”  
She grabs his hand and squeezes. “I'm Chell. You're not a moron.”  
Blue eyes look up from behind glasses and his mouth curves upward into the smile he usually wears. This time it's _his_ eyes that light up. Almost literally, and she wouldn't be surprised if that were the case. “Thanks.” he says. “Lovely name you've got. Chell. Hope I spell it right.”

The marker is dying but he gets enough life out of it to scratch out a barely legible 'Tshel'.

She laughs and he can't help but notice the way it fills the room. Such a pleasant sound. “Close enough.”

The box is placed under the tree next to hers and the next few days go by smoothly. Well, as smoothly as days can go when the weather keeps you inside all the time and one of you is slowly beginning to panic.

How could he have gotten her something so stupid?! They're plastic! She's prolly had enough of plastic and metal an' all that after the facility.

No, plastic is fine. She uses a lot of plastic things nowadays. Those little dishes are plastic. Oh but what if she doesn't like the colors?! She'll know what they're supposed to be but what if it reminds her and she doesn't want to be reminded? 

No, she talked about it the other day. It'll be fine... What if she doesn't like snowflakes?! They're supposed to look like that cold white stuff outside. What if she doesn't like that, an' then she doesn't like the snowflakes, so she won't like the gift?

This continues until Christmas Eve. They are sitting in front of the fireplace. The flames are warm and he is staring apprehensively at his gift. What if she doesn't like it? She notices, takes hold of one of his hands and tells him, “It's Christmas. Why are you worried?”

The touch of her hand warms him more than the fire ever could. “It's nothing, luv. Just, can we open the gifts now?” Get it over with. She won't like it. He messed up again. She deserves something better than little plastic snowflakes.

She nods, let's him go and hands him the blue box from under the tree. Again he looks at his name on the box. Her handwriting is much nicer than his even though she hadn't written in prolly as long as him. Just naturally better he supposes. It's nice to see his name in her penmanship.

A glance at her for approval, she nods toward the box, and he pulls the top off and unfolds the newspaper keeping the gift covered. It's a book. A travel guide. Plenty of pictures of different places on Earth. Inside the front cover is a written message from her.

_Our reward. Now you can always have a world beyond the facility. ~ Chell_

Two thoughts enter his mind at the same time. One is 'oh that's how you spell her name'. The second cannot be expressed in words, but is shown through his hugging of the book to his chest and quiet muttering of, “Thank you, luv.” He might be crying a bit but he'll never admit to it.

While he is flipping through the pages she grabs the other box and opens it, reaching inside for Wheatley's gift. He opens his mouth to protest but she is already holding the two plastic snowflakes. In one hand she holds the blue, in the other the orange. Grey eyes move back and forth between the flakes.

Her expression was always a hard one to read. Even with practice Wheatley can't tell what she's thinking this time around. He looks as though his happy emotions have been punched in the face. If they had a face to be punched in. “Look I know you prolly don't like 'em and I really didn't know what else to get you what with all the confusin' stuff in the shops and I'm sorry if you--”

A kiss. Chell's lips are planted on his and remain there until his face is as red as Aperture's buttons. When she breaks away the normally talkative man has been silenced. She holds the snowflakes up to him, back to back like portals. “It's clever! Thank you, Wheatley!”

She likes them? She actually likes them? She likes them! She likes his gift! She is setting them on the tree branches with the other objects and when she is done Wheatley puts his book down, grabs her hand, and returns the kiss. “Happy Christmas, luv.”


End file.
